


Submarine Subterfuge

by Shadowheartdesigns (shadowkitten)



Category: Princess Principal (Anime)
Genre: Gen, One or two lines of somewhat egregious, Slightly subtexty but no real shipping, creative swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-16
Updated: 2017-10-16
Packaged: 2019-01-18 05:18:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,846
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12381696
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shadowkitten/pseuds/Shadowheartdesigns
Summary: The Kingdom of Albion's Royal Navy has a new and strange submarine design. The Principal Team is sent to investigate.





	Submarine Subterfuge

**Author's Note:**

> Occurs some time before Chise joins the team. Dorothy and Princess have minor roles.

"What do you know about submarines," Dorothy asked, spreading a blueprint across the club room's table.

"Well," Princess replied in a dignified tone, "a submarine is a boat that can travel under water."

"We have no need of submarines on the Black Lizard Planet, as we are all able to breathe water."

Princess' grin widened, and she gave Ange a fond glance.

"Submarines," replied Beatrice in a serious tone, "are the future of naval warfare."

Princess and Dorothy blinked in surprise. The young girl studied the blueprint with a serious expression on her face.

"My my, I didn't expect you to have such a fierce opinion on the matter, Beato."

A thin smile crossed her face, and she spared a glance toward the Princess.

"Is what my father would always say," she replied in a lighter tone. "It was one of his little obsessions. He would spend hours studying the career and schematics of the Nautilus, and write many, many letters to the Admiralty. Insisting that submarines were a better use of their time and money than the Dreadnoughts that were, and are still, the craze. Of course, naval engineering wasn't his specialty, and by then he had already gained the reputation of ...."

She paused, and brushed her fingertips across her throat. Her cheeks reddened, and she returned her attention to the blueprint.

"Reputation of a maniac. His letters were ignored. Not even opened."

"I think someone was paying attention," Dorothy said, pointing at the blueprint. "Tell me Beato ... what isn't right about this sub?"

She looked at the blueprint. Running her fingertips along the white lines. Studying every detail.

"Wait ... a Cavorite reactor?"

Dorothy grinned proudly.

"That's what allows our airships to fly," Princess said, her voice lilting to make it more of a question.

"Yes, Princess. It's expensive, but thousands of times more efficient than hydrogen, and many times safer. But why would you put one on a sub?"

"To allow it to fly," suggested Ange.

Beatrice shook her head.

"The propellers for an airship are different from those on a water-ship. And this sub," she tapped the blueprint for emphasis, "has only the kind you'd expect on a submarine. And besides, a sub is so good because it can hide. You'd be stupid to give up that advantage, even if it let you move faster."

"So what's the deal with the reactor then," Dorothy asked.

Beatrice turned her attention back to that part of the blueprint.

Her eyes went wide.

"It's directly connected to the drive shaft. Completely replacing the engine. And it's connected to life support too. With Cavorite's gravity nullifying capabilities ... this submarine can sail faster than most surface ships, remain almost completely silent, and can make enough oxygen that it can stay underwater ... well, forever. Or at least until food and water run out."

"Congrats, Beato. Took you five minutes to spot what Commonwealth analysts missed for two weeks."

Beatrice beamed proudly at Dorothy.

"What are these," Ange asked, pointing at the top surface of the sub.

Beatrice looked.

"Torpedo tubes?"

"Why are they facing up?"

"Well," Beatrice shrugged, "there's no real reason you couldn't launch a torpedo straight up. This sub would be so quiet it could sit 20 feet beneath the navy's best corvette and they'd never know it was there. But ... these tubes are too big for that I think."

Dorothy grinned, and pulled out another blueprint, unrolling it over the first.

"Control didn't think these blueprints went together, even though they were intercepted at the same time. I betcha our cute little genius can see otherwise."

Beatrice blushed and shrugged at Dorothy's praise, before turning seriously to the new schematic.

"It's a firework," Princess said.

Beatrice nodded.

"A firework that can level cities."

Even Ange couldn't suppress a surprised look.

"Well," Beatrice shrugged, "I'm exaggerating a little. This _is_ a rocket, and it is armed with a very large amount of explosives. More than you can normally fit in one this size."

"Cavorite," Ange breathed.

Beatrice nodded.

"But they can't make a Cavorite reactor that small," she stated.

"What about the C-Ball," Princess asked.

"It is a unique prototype," Ange explained, "unstable due to the difficulty in properly cooling the Cavorite. The Kingdom does not yet have the secret, and the Commonwealth struggles to make it cost-effective enough to build en masse."

"But," Beatrice said, "they know what they want to do with it once they can make it work. This rocket is designed to destroy buildings. Neighborhoods, even. And ten of them fit in this submarine."

She moved the blueprint of the missile, and pointed at the tubes that Ange had noticed.

"This ... this is designed to start a war," Princess breathed.

"No," Beatrice replied, "it's designed to start, fight, _and win_ a war. In minutes."

"Our job's to go and take a gander at it," Dorothy said with a grin.

...

Union Jacks flapped in the brisk, cool breeze. A band was playing a rousing patriotic march. Soldiers, in their bright red coats, and Royal Marines, notable for their white, spiked pith helmets, stood at attention.

Princess, dressed in a flowing gown of light red silk, walked along between them as they saluted. She smiled, and waved at the soldiers and Marines, and then again at the press as camera flashes began to go off.

A step behind her, her uncle frowned. This was a larger crowd than he had wanted. There were supposed to be representatives from the Admiralty, a military honor guard, and a small, hand-picked selection of journalists. Not this ridiculous crowd. Not with this raucous atmosphere. This was supposed to be a _secret_ weapon, after all.

Princess walked up a short flight of stairs, ending in a platform at the stern of the sub. She smiled, and picked up the bottle of Champagne that sat on a small table. She looked at the label.

"Oh my, this is a particularly nice vintage. I don't suppose we can sample a little before the ceremony?"

This joke earned Princess a titter of polite laughter.

"Well. I thank you all for coming today. Our navy grows a little larger. This ship ...."

A uniformed officer standing near her leaned over and whispered something into her ear. She blushed, and smiled.

"My apologies. I am informed that this is a _boat_ , and not a ship."

More laughter.

"Regardless. It is my absolute honor to christen her, the HMS Princess Charlotte!"

Princess grasped the bottle by the neck, and swung it against the metal of the submarine. It shattered, spraying cheap sparkling white wine (the good stuff that the label had been scavenged from was, of course, sitting on ice in the reception hall) across the submarine ... and the Princess. Drawing a squeal of surprise from her, and general laughter.

"You've both been christened proper," someone in the crowd shouted out.

The Duke of Normandy scowled in disapproval.

No one noticed the two figures slip into a hatch on the submarines' forward hull.

...

"I don't approve of her going," Princess had stated flatly.

"Oh, okay," Dorothy had said. "We'll have _you_ go instead. I assume you've got the necessary engineering experience, to examine the reactor. Right? We can have Ange dress up as you to do the whole ceremony thing too, since you've also got training and experience as a spy."

The Princess had blushed, but relented. And now, Ange and Beatrice were going to infiltrate the vessel.

The mini-sub was cramped, hot, and stuffy. Beatrice hated every second that she had to sit in it while Dorothy carefully maneuvered the thing past the defensive net and the floating mines and the submerged spikes. Dorothy had insisted that an approach by sea, while everyone was watching the Princess waste perfectly good booze, was the best option. Ange hadn't objected.

She and Ange had squeezed out of the top hatch, and Ange had used her C-ball to allow them to drift just over the surface of the water, to the side of the sub opposite to where everyone had gathered. Beatrice clung tightly to Ange's arm, trying not to glance down at the dark, oily water below.

The mini-sub sunk back below the water.

"I still think we should've insisted that she wait," Beatrice groused.

Ange didn't say anything, focusing instead on getting them onto the fore-deck. There was a burst of applause, laughter, and loud, patriotic music from the band. Hurriedly, and crouching down to avoid stray gazes as much as possible, they crossed to a hatch. Ange pulled it open far enough for Beatrice to scramble in, then she followed.

The interior was dimly lit, but the temperature was surprisingly comfortable. It didn't have the stale, recycled stuffiness of the mini-sub, or the vague smokiness of a steam ship, nor the uncomfortably flammable ambiance of one with a petrol engine. Beatrice allowed herself a smug glance back toward Ange, who responded with an uncharacteristically amused grin.

"I was right," Beatrice whispered.

"We shall see."

With the layout of the submarine's interior committed to her memory, Beatrice took the lead. She guided them through tight, narrow corridors and past bulkhead doors low enough that even Beatrice had to duck to pass. Into the very core of the vessel.

The engineering room glowed with a sickly green light, and was pervaded by a low hissing noise and a deep bass rumbling. The reactor itself looked like a gigantic C-ball: A brass sphere studded with protrusions and held together by silver rivets. Wires and hoses were connected to the sphere at various points. A dial by the side gave the reactor's core temperature (in Kelvin) and a second indicated the percentage draw of the reactor's power. Both needles hovered near the low end of their range.

"I will keep watch," Ange stated.

Beatrice nodded, and turned to the reactor. She observed every detail, following each wire and cable and tube. She knelt down behind the sphere, and Ange heard her sigh softly.

"Beato?"

"Exactly as I thought, Miss Ange."

Before Ange could respond, they heard a distant clanging sound. Followed by a heavy tramping sound above them.

Beatrice darted up, eyes wide in panic.

"Crew," she whispered. Ange nodded.

"We have to hide. Follow me!"

Ange deferred to the younger girl's directions.

Hurriedly, she led them out of the engine room, down a side corridor, and into a cramped storage space. The two stood, barely breathing, pressed tightly against one another. The darkness was absolute, and Beatrice was unable to see Ange's face. Of course, that also meant that Ange was unable to see the uncomfortable blush starting to spread across her cheeks.

They heard loud shouting, and felt the boat lurch forward.

"We're sailing," Beatrice hissed.

"Yes," Ange replied quietly.

Beatrice bit back further comment. The sub rocked as they hit the water. From where they were, they could hear the rumbling hum of the Cavorite reactor. They felt the vessel begin to move forward, under power.

They waited several more minutes. When they did not hear any further movement outside their hiding place, Ange tentatively opened the door. The corridor was empty.

However, the engine room was not. A short, stout man with thinning red hair stood, adjusting a valve and watching the gauges beside the reactor. He wore the uniform of a lower-ranking naval officer, but didn't appear to have much respect for it. The jacket was unbuttoned, the brass fixtures unpolished. His shoes were scuffed, and his pants were not pressed.

After a moment, there was a tinny buzzing sound.

_"Engineer, to the comm."_

The man's eyes widened in surprise, and he glowered at the intercom set into the wall.

"Damn ponce, to the comm my arse. He expect the infernal thing to run itself?"

Despite his grousing, he pressed the button by the intercom.

"Engineering. What in the hells ya want me up there for?"

There was no immediate response.

_"Engineer, please respond."_

"Daft son of a mouldy-cunted horse-fucked whore, what kinda response ya looking for!"

He pressed the button again.

"Cap'n, I say again, what possible good can I be up in comm?"

After a moment, the tinny sound returned.

_"Engineering, we're not getting a response. Come to comm immediately. This is an order."_

The engineer swore so fiercely that _Ange_ started to blush, storming out of the engine room with a red face and clenched fists.

After a moment, Ange turned to Beatrice with a slight grin.

"Nicely done."

Beatrice smiled, and readjusted a dial on her clockwork larynx.

"I noticed earlier that the intercom hadn't been hooked up yet."

They snuck into the engine room, knowing they wouldn't have much time.

"So. You can disable this reactor."

Ange had not phrased it as a question.

"Disable?" Beatrice's voice had a note of panic to it.

"That is our true mission. We are to disable the reactor, so that the Royal Navy will write off this technology as unsuitable for deployment."

"I ... I thought we were just going to look at it, to see if the theory was right!"

"A lie," Ange replied smoothly. "Princess would not have agreed had she known that your true assignment was to sink the submarine, as it sailed. With you aboard."

Beatrice sighed heavily. She turned to the reactor, giving it another look.

"Okay. There are three ways I can disable it."

She turned and looked directly at Ange, expression very serious.

"One. I can shut off the safety, causing the reactor to go into overdrive. This will send the submarine shooting up out of the water, possibly out of the atmosphere. It will fly straight up until the Cavorite overheats. Then it will plummet back down to Earth. Everyone will be killed on impact."

"Everyone without a functioning C-ball will be killed on impact," Ange corrected.

Beatrice frowned.

"Two. I can use your C-ball to send a C-wave pulse into the reactor. This will cause it to enter a critical phase, destroying it. I will be instantly killed in the process."

" _We_ will be instantly killed," Ange amended.

Beatrice took a deep breath.

"Three. I can sabotage the coolant system. The Cavorite will overheat and the reactor will fail. The submarine will lose motive power, oxygen recycling, and buoyancy. There is a chance that the engineer can reverse the sabotage, but it's a small chance. However, this will allow enough time for the crew to evacuate the sub."

"And it will appear to be an accident."

"Yes. At the very worst, they'll send the design back for evaluation. Setting the project back at least a year, maybe more."

Ange nodded.

  
"Do it."

Beatrice nodded. She turned to the reactor, and made a quick adjustment to the valve that the engineer had just been at. She then ducked behind the reactor.

Ange glanced nervously down the hallway, at the ladder leading up to the comm tower.

"Will it be much longer," she asked in a level tone, betraying none of her misgivings.

Beatrice popped back up from behind the reactor, reached out, and took Ange's hand.

"Be ready to run," she said.

"At your word," Ange replied.

Beatrice smirked.

"I won't have to say anything."

After a moment, the hissing sound stopped. The deep bass rumbling took on a deeper tone. The green glow turned to a jaundiced yellow. The temperature needle wavered, then quickly shot up, pegging against the very highest mark and apparently trying to climb higher.

Ange turned and started to run, tugging Beatrice along after her, as a klaxon began to wail, painfully high in volume.

...

"How long do we have?"

They were in a small metal room. Thick doors on either side sealed them off. Protected them from what lay beyond.

Three of them.

Ange, Beatrice, and a corpse.

Beatrice didn't know what the corpse's name was. She had more important things to think about right now.

"Don't know. Not long," Ange replied.

Smoke filled the room. Smoke from Ange's gun. It hadn't really dispersed. It didn't really have anywhere to disperse to.

"The air is ...."

"Fine," Ange interrupted. "We have plenty of oxygen in here. The hull will collapse before it runs out."

As if to prove her point, there was a metallic shriek somewhere in the distance. Beatrice felt the floor shudder.

Ange was seated. Her gun lay beside her leg. Beatrice, also seated, scooted just a little closer to her. The corpse remained where it was.

"Miss Ange ... you have one of those little ... cylinder things, right?"

"Rebreather? I have two, one for each of us."

Beatrice's expression instantly brightened.

"Then we can just swim away!"

"No. Sadly, we cannot. Had we not been interrupted," she nodded in the direction of the corpse, "then that would have been an option."

There was a sharp banging sound somewhere above them. Beatrice inched closer to Ange.

"As it is," Ange continued, "you can hear what the water pressure is doing to the boat. Imagine what it would do to us ... and we are not made of metal. Well, I am not anyway."

Ange allowed a thin smile to cross her lips. Beatrice frowned.

"I am not made of metal!"

Her hand briefly moved to her throat.

"Not _entirely_ made of metal."

The floor heaved with a loud, violent metallic tearing sound. Beatrice threw herself against Ange, arms wrapping around her. Head burrowing into Ange's shoulder. Shuddering.

For a moment, Ange could only look at her in surprise. Then she placed a hand on Beatrice's head, and wrapped an arm around her.

"So," Beatrice eventually managed, "we're dead."

"No. Not yet. There is hope. Dorothy is not trapped here."

Beatrice pulled her face away from Ange's shoulder. Her cheeks were wet. As was Ange's shoulder.

"Yeah. Yeah, she'll save us."

Ange didn't say anything. Beatrice sighed, and rested her cheek against Ange's shoulder again.

"Miss Ange?"

"Yes?"

"Could you ... could you tell me a story?"

Ange looked at her in surprise.

"A story? Are you a child?"

Beatrice frowned.

"I just ... I'm scared."

"Yes."

"And ... and you like to tell stories."

"I like to tell lies," Ange said, with the faintest of grins. "But, I'll tell you one."

.O.

Once upon a time, on the Black Lizard Planet, a world far far away from this one, there lived a little girl. She was poor and sad, and lived with terrible adults that made her do horrible things. They would throw her bread crusts to eat, and give her muddy water to drink, and make her sleep on bare planks of wood.

One day she heard about an old, dry well. The deepest well in the entire world.

She ran away from the mean adults, and worked her way through a maze of dirty, smoggy streets, and squeezed past a tiny hole in a massive wall, and through an ancient, tangled garden. And she found the well. And just as it had been said, it was dry. And it was deep. So very deep.

As she stood there looking down into the dry depths of the well, she heard a voice behind her.

It said, "Why are you standing there, looking down into the well?"

"I hate this world," the girl replied, "so I am going to throw myself down into the well, to escape it."

"No," the voice cried, "do not do that!"

"Why not?"

"Because this is a wishing well. Make a wish, and throw in a coin. Your wish will surely come true once the coin reaches the bottom of the well."

"But I do not have a coin," the girl said in a desperate voice.

"Don't you?"

The girl blinked, and placed her hand in her empty pocket. Only it wasn't empty after all. She pulled her hand out, and found it clasped around a large, heavy coin.

It was pure, glittering silver, and larger than any coin she had ever seen in her entire life. She realized, looking at it, that it would let her buy more bread than she could ever hope to eat, and enough pure, clean water to bathe in every day let alone drink, and a large bed stuffed with feathers and covered with silk sheets. And for a moment, for just one moment, she considered keeping that coin.

Instead, she stepped up to the very edge of the well.

"I wish to change this world, so no one will ever go hungry, or thirsty, or have to do horrible things for terrible adults ever again."

And she tossed the coin into the well.

.O.

Beatrice blinked. She shifted in Ange's arms, and looked up into her eyes.

"What happened next? Did her wish come true?"

"I don't know," Ange replied.

"Whaa?! You ... you can't just tell a story half-way like that. Stories have to have an ending!"

"I don't know," Ange said, "because the coin is still falling. It hasn't reached the bottom of the well yet, and the wish cannot come true until it does."

Beatrice kept her eyes locked on Ange's, for a moment.

"You. It's you, isn't it? You're the little girl, who made that wish."

Ange didn't reply right away. There was a distant pinging sound.

"Do you truly believe that?"  


"Well .. it's a story. So I don't think there really was a well, or a coin. But ... it _was_ you, wasn't it?"

Ange simply shrugged.

And then the room lurched.

And there was the loudest bang that Beatrice had ever heard.

And a tooth-jarring metallic scraping at the door.

And Beatrice screamed, and buried her face into Ange's chest, and latched on tighter than she had ever before.

Then silence.

And then the sound of the door creaking open. And of the door banging against the metal wall.

"Geez guys, there's a time and a place for a makeout session. This really isn't it."

And Beatrice stopped shaking. Her eyes opened. She blinked once, then pulled away from Ange, who did not offer any resistance.

Beatrice stood up in a flash. Her face was red. Her cheeks were wet. She clenched her fists.

"Dorothy! You ... I mean, you ...."

And she broke out into a run, and latched her arms around Dorothy's waist. Sobbing in sudden and unexpected relief.  
  
"Ooof! Yeah yeah, glad to see you too. What, aren't you gonna hug me, Ange?"

Ange stood up, retrieving her gun.

"We do not hug on the Black Lizard Planet."

"Yeah whatever," Dorothy grinned. "Well, I'd love to stand here and banter, but it sounds like this sub's not gonna hold together much longer."

...

Dorothy sat at the controls of the mini-sub, guiding it up towards the surface. Far below, they could just barely hear the final death throes of the HMS Princess Charlotte.

"Next stop, Penzance," Dorothy quipped.

Beatrice rested her head in Ange's lap. Her eyes were closed. Ange, assuming she was asleep, ran her fingers gently through the girl's hair.

She was not asleep. She couldn't stop thinking about that well. And the little girl. And that coin. The coin that sparkled as it fell, tumbling end over end, down into the dark and dry depths.

 

 

 


End file.
